


remembrance

by mintgreyashes



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Flowers, Hurt, Language of Flowers, Memory Loss, Poor Sawada Tsunayoshi, Repressed Memories, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-04-24 12:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintgreyashes/pseuds/mintgreyashes
Summary: 「hyacinths he once held tight, he now lets go. and amidst it all, a single daffodil blooms.」--a screeching of tires.vermillion seeping into concrete grounds.tsuna wakes up to fluroscent lights and white walls of a hospital, the feeling of sin painting his hands an ugly black.and he is alone.but even if he's dame-tsuna, even if he's useless and friendless and being alone should be normal--it still feels inherrently wrong.something still feels missing.and it's obvious in the way his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, or the way he can only recall the echoes of screams, tears, pain and before-tsuna finds that he can't remember.so instead, he chooses to forget.--and sometimes, farewells do not mean the end.--in which tsuna wakes up after a car accident and finds his memories lost, along with a feeling of wrong and sin, and that he's forgetting the people that are precious to him.
Relationships: Reborn & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Nana & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Vongola Tenth Generation Guardians
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	remembrance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flower Shop Blues](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/549463) by Adwen. 

  
There's a flickering of bright flouroscent lights, a buzzing in his ears, and warm hands gripping at his own.

He floats in an expanse of darkness, there but not quite, before hearing a whisper from the void.

_"I'm sorry."_

Then-

Silence.

\--

T_he screeching echoes in his ears, filling his head with nothing but static and cotton._

_And it entwines itself with their cries, as the vermillion splattered onto jagged grounds melds into something untameable. Uncontrollable._

_He remembers screaming._

_He remembers crying._

_He remembers _before.

_Until it slips away, along with the vermillion, along with his sight, his sound._

_Then, he can't quite remember what happened _before_, only _then_, when he sees the echoes of screaming, their crying__ rings out in that distant, lonely expanse of nothing._

_He forgets._

And he wakes up.

\--

His eyes blink open, one at a time.

Bleary-eyed and confused, he watches. A shrill ringing in ears as there is an abrupt clatter of sound.

He turns his head. A nurse drops her tray, its contents spilling onto the marble floors as she flies right by his side.

"Sawada-san?" Her voice is panicked, yet somehow still a forced calm. Her hands move with a flurry of action, meek like a flailing pigeon, but she swallows down her nerves, a tone of professionalism coating her words. "You're awake, sir?"

Tsuna frowns.

Was he?

Overhead, the fluroscent lights seem to flicker, and Tsuna supposes that he is awake, but he also knows that he won't be, not for much longer; not when he sees the dark threatening to take away his vision, slowly but surely.

"Stay with me, okay?" The nurse squeaks, using a single hand to clutch at his own, familiar in ways that he can't quite remember.

"You're going to be alright."

His vision fades out eventually, traitorous as it drags him back down into the pits of unconsciousness, before all he can hear is the screams, the red, the accusing, and the pain.

_"S'rry." _He croaks.

And sinks back to his dreams.

\--

_"Was he awake just now?"_

_"He was, sir, but he fell asleep again. But it seems that he's out of danger now, so you can visit him if you'd like."_

_"...No, I'll pass."_

_"Are you... Are you sure, sir? You seemed quite close to Sawada-sa-"_

_"Enough, you damn lady! If I say I pass, means I don't want to see him!"_

_"...Of course, sir. I apologise."_

_"Tch."_

_\--_

The next time Tsuna's eyes open, he's alone.

Purple hyacinths sit in a hand-painted vase, a bold colour against the stark white of the room.

Silence that seems almost like a luxury in his daily life now fills the void in the room.

And he swallows, because he should be _happy, _right?

It's quiet, now.

_(but did _before _ever even exist?)_

Peace and quiet.

He's awake and it should be _enough, _because silence had been the only thing he'd known before.

And yet...

Regret pools in his gut; a mind-numbing, sinking feeling of guilt that he can't quite place nor even fathom to understand.

He's alone.

_(Why?)_

\--

_"It's... your fault."_

_(i'm sorry.)_

_(i'm sorry.)_

_(why?)_

_\--_

"You're free to go, Sawada-san!" The nurse from before, who'd long since worked past her nerves to converse with Tsuna, now chirrups with a tone light with obvious delight.

He smiles gratefully. "Thank you for taking care of me while I was hospitalized, mam."

"Ah! No need to thank me, really! I was just doing my job!"

"Still--"

"Really, Sawada-san!"

And Tsuna can't help his abashed grin, and it only grows as the nurse -_Ying, _he reminds himself- beams back; almost like the _sun-_

_("you are not my brother.")_

_(why, why, what did i do wrong?)_

"But well.. did.. anyone else other than my mother want to visit me?"

"Ah... Well..."

Hesitation paints Ying's words, Tsuna swallows with faint unease, head throbbing at the weight of memories that he _can't remember, _but feels the significance of nonetheless.

And then-

"...It's okay," he says eventually, even as his soul twists at the feeling of _alone, alone, is it because of me, _and simply bows in goodbye.

"I'll be going, then."

"Ah.. of course, Sawada-san. Goodbye."

And so, Tsunayoshi leaves the white room, the sterility of medicine and pain and suffering.

Leaves the wilting petals of purple hyacinths, and the Ying that helped brighten up the bleakness of the room, slowly, and agonisingly familiar.

And yet, even as he leaves, vermillion still follows his path.

The loneliness still follows him.

\--

His mother welcomes him home with open arms, a feast fit for a king, and a smile tad too weary.

And Tsuna is _tired, _too.

Because the silence now mocks him, teases him about a time from _before, _back when it had all seemed fine, and he can't understand _why _that _fine _is now gone.

It's off-centering, almost disconcerting, just how much the quiet throws him off, making him uneasy.

Even though he'd spent a majority of his life as Dame-Tsuna, even if he _can't remember, _he _knows _that something's missing.

_(something gone forever.)_

And now, the stillness of the air paints the quiant residence of the Sawada household, and when he asks, _"Mom... Am I... forgetting people?"_

Nana only manages a smile. "Who, dear? Ara, I didn't realise that my _useless _son had friends?" It looks suspiciously shaky.

Tsuna does not notice.

_(not past the hurt, the static, the cotton, or the pain.)_

"Oh..." He says instead, shaking his head slightly as he wrings his hands together self-consciously. "I guess I got it wrong then, haha..."

"Ara, Tsu-kun, you're so silly!"

She doesn't remember, he realises.

The thought sends his gut churning.

"I... guess I am."

\--

His world crumples.

Bit by bit.

Piece by piece.

_(_he _doesn't remember.)_

\--

_the beginning of the end._

_\--_

On Monday, he goes back to school.

The bandages are a sight for sore eyes, the dirty white clashing horribly with the blue of the Namimori uniform.

And yet-

Not a single person brings it up.

Not.

A.

Single.

One.

And it's almost disconcerting, because Tsuna _feels _his classmates' weighted stares, sees them glaring at him from the corner of his eyes.

But nobody, _nobody _approaches him; not even to ask about his absence, or even about his wounds.

_You are alone._

His heart twists at that, a feeling he has long since grown accustomed too, yet it still hurts the same.

Then just as he turns to walk away, he slams straight into a wall.

Well, until said wall began to _speak._

"Tch, watch where you're going, idiot!"

Gokudera Hayato -a transfer student, he'd heard- is sneering at him, green eyes unreadable. There is nothing but hostility in his words, even as Tsuna squeaks and fumbles with his hands, sputtering out jibberish as a reply.

"S-Sorry, Gokudera-kun, I just didn't see you and- and-"

_"Haah? _Damn right you didn't, pimp-squeak! And who said you could address me so casually?"

"...O-Oh, right, I-"

His words fall short, and Tsuna promptly turns red. The thought of it is _mortifying, _because why _had_ he allowed Gokudera-san's name to slip out like that so causually?

And silence fills the air.

A morbid, eerie quiet that now follows him with each step he takes.

Neither him or Gokudera speak for another minute.

The tension frays at the threads of kindling even a new relationship, and they _can't do it._

_He _can't do it.

Not when the weight of the friendship they once shared, but _he _can't remember, or even care, shatters them into pieces that they can't quite piece.

Not anymore.

_(purple for forgiveness.)_

_(hyacinths for regret.)_

_(would this be enough, to replace the vermillion that you've lost?)_

And Tsuna is the first to pull away.

_(again and again and again-)_

There is a strange heat in his eyes, yet it is not quite fire, nor is it tears.

Tsuna just leaves it all behind, stumbling out and _away_ as he just pushes it all aside. The pain, the hurt, the screaming, the crying, the _before._

And as he leaves, he leaves behind a bond that splinters into something unfixable.

Tsunayoshi does not cry.

\--

_(he leaves behind a single red rose, amongst the purple of hyacinths, and the vermillion of regret. a goodbye to the person he once knew.)_

_(a person that he will never know again, for _he _forgets.)_

_\--_

On Wednesday mornings he walks alone to school.

On Wednesdays _before _he'd hear the pitching of a ball as he passes the pitch to get to the gates.

Then-

_"Oh! Haha! Hi, Tsuna!"_

A greeting, then an arm swung round his neck.

He laughs then, the sound of rain drumming against window panes, calm and strong.

Now, on Wednesdays _after, _the pitch lays empty.

Not a single swoosh of a stray ball, or the harsh clink of metal against rubber.

And there is no longer a Yamamoto Takeshi in sight.

Even if the boy is still in his class, even if he still laughs along to jokes or trails behind Gokudera like a clueless puppy.

Because in Yamamoto's eyes, Sawada Tsunayoshi no longer _exists._

_(or maybe he never had in the first place.)_

There are no more beaming smiles, no more casual assurances.

Just _plastic, _even as Yamamoto drowns under oceans of grief, smiling and smiling and _smiling _the pain away.

And Tsuna kind of wishes that he could cry too, _somehow._

But he doesn't, because perhaps there hadn't been anything to cry for in the first place.

_(he pretends not to see the crumpled doodles squashed haphazardly in his bag.)_

_(just like how he pretends not to see t- _him _stare, longing for something he can't quite understand.)_

_(not anymore.)_

_("what a strange dream i had, to be friends with _him_, of all people. huh.")_

\--

Then, the days begin to blur together.

The normalcy of it all dulls the sounds of once explosions, laughter and screams. Instead, they are replaced by the lull of everyday life.

Of his mother's quiet presence.

Of the loneliness of this big house that once used to be so vibrant.

Something's _missing, _Tsuna knows this. But he also doesn't know what exactly he has lost.

His favourite manga collection is still there, as is his mulitude of video games. There's not a single thing that is out of place. And he's still Dame-Tsuna. He's used to being alone, even if the thought of it seems _wrong _these days. The peace and quiet is still something he relishes in.

But there is something there but not quite. And it _terrifies him, _when sometimes all he sees, hears, _feels _are the vines that strangle him in a vice-grip in his chest, purple petals blooming away, clutching at him as they whisper, _i'm sorry._

And then-

_(screams.)_

_(tears.)_

_(nothing.)_

Life goes on.

\--

His mouth feels like sandpaper as he awakens, barely holding back a scream.

_A dream, _he reassures himself, _just a god awful dream._

_(or is it?)_

And Tsuna swallows back the taste of tar, of copper, back into the confines of _before, before, before, _he shudders again, then slowly, painfully, he forces his lungs to work again.

Breathe in, forget the screams. Remember the feeling of cotton by his fingertips, the heat in his eyes, the trembling in his limbs, and the way he's _alive._

_("good, dame-tsuna. remember what i taught you. remember how to _breathe._")_

Breathe out, forget the _betrayal. _He forces it all out, wills away the pain of it all, the way he still feels those phantom hands clutching at him, reminding him to _breathe-_

_Away, away._

Repeat.

And slowly, his breathing eases, and the panic loosens its grip.

The vines are still there, blooming in purples and red, words of _i'm sorry, _still swimming in his chest.

Yet, as he closes his eyes, he pretends all is well, that _he _is well.

_("thank you... reborn.")_

Sleep comes soon after.

He chooses to forget.

\--

_(a single daffodil blooms.)_

_(it's beautiful.)_

_(̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶.̶)̶_

\--

Then one day, he finds a stray grenade from under his bed.

Tsuna smiles, picking it up and sighing good-naturedly, almost wistfully.

"Oh, this must belong to-"

\--

He never finishes his sentence, or that thought.

\--

Instead, the grenade is left untouched, forgotten as it sits in his drawer, buried under countless failed tests and unsubmitted work.

And he forgets with it a crybaby younger brother who once stared at him with stars in his eyes.

_("how could you have done this?")_

He forgets it all, and he forgets to cry.

\--

Life goes on.

_(does it?)_

\--

On some days -the _bad_ days- there are moments where it all overwhelms him. the pressure of it all leaves him lucid; screaming, choking, _gasping_ for even a _semblance_ of control.

And the floodgates open, threatening to drag him under, _drowning_ him with the weight of memories.

Then-

"Is this why you left me?"

He asks, and there is no reply but he understands nonetheless.

Because he would leave him too, with the person he is becoming.

_A stranger_.

\--

_(it still hurts.)_

\--

Eventually, the nightmares lessen. As do his episodes of hysteric sobbing.

Yet Tsuna _knows_ that something's slipping, pieces of a time he can't quite grasp at and hold onto.

He sees it when he catches glimpses of a boy as radiant as the sun running past his neighbourhood every morning without fail.

And the raw feeling of _wrong _is all that fills him, when he sees the way the sun wavers, smile crumpling and dulling away.

Sasagawa Ryohei catches a glimpse of Sawada Tsunayoshi, and it all falls apart.

Just as there are no more Wednesdays _before_, the sun no longer beams his way, lighting up his path with warmth and familiarity.

And _Tsuna _falls apart, because he _wants_ to fix this, fix whatever one-sided bond he'd selfishly forged, or perhaps even just conjured in those foolish attempts to delude himself, just to see him smile and cheer again, but he doesn't know _how _and what exactly he's done _wrong-_

_("it's your fault.")_

_("you are not my brother. my brother is not a murderer.")_

Sasagawa Ryohei stops running past his neighbourhood.

And soon, the boy as bright as the sun slips away from his grasp.

Then eventually, it all stops for him too.

Tsuna doesn't cry, doesn't remember to, because he cannot remember anymore than the phantom pain of a family he's long lost and forgotten.

\--

_B__lack covered his hands, murky as the ink that _sin _had once painted his fingers a lifetime ago, when bright-eyed and young, he'd sought to fight his fate, to stop the blood that coloured his legacy._

_And yet, his eyes wander, away from the _sin, _away from that rose-coloured glass his world had been forged on, and he _sees-

\--

Day by day, it all slips away; further and further away from him until he can no longer reach into those dream-like days, filled with laughter and cheers and _happiness._

And he remembers with it the echoes of a wish, of a _desire _so deep; just to forget.

_(forget it all, let us have never met.)_

The taste of bitterness and pain, of _their words_ dragging him deeper and deeper down into the abyss.

_(killer.)_

_(useless.)_

_(pathetic.)_

Then he wonders, not for the first time, if _forgetting _was the right answer.

\--

_He's angry._

_The most he's ever been, the fury coating his sight as he listens to the vile, vile things _that man_ in front of him is foolishly spitting._

_And it's unfamiliar, this rage, because the last time he'd felt it had been paindeathyuni and he'd _hated_ it, had sworn to never feel this way ever again._

_But then-_

_"How about I kill them all, Decimo? Tear them from limb to limb like the filth they are?"_

_The words leave behind ringing in his ears, a shaking that rocks his world, tilts it off-axis._

_He sees his family there, unconscious as that man wraps strong hands around their necks, listens to their gasps and-_

_He screams._

_\--_

_Tsuna sees red._

_A vermillion that can never be washed away, diluting the sin into something ugly and twisted and draining away a life that will never be once more._

_("how could you?")_

_And he thinks he's drowning, that he's screaming under the weight of the silence, of their hatred._

_But it's okay._

_It's okay, he tells himself, even as they yell, even as they gaze upon him like he is the filth beneath their soles._

_Because they don't know._

_(and he'll make sure they never will.)_

_\--_

_("coward!")_

_(and with just a _push-_)_

_\--_

_"You-"_

Friday has a livid Mochida Kensuke cornering him, murder in his eyes before the world spins for a moment, because one minute he'd been headed up to the roof to enjoy a quiet lunch, and the other he's being pushed into the dirty, cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

Mochida slams a single fist into the door of the stall, the sound echoing around the empty space.

"Why is it always _you?"_

Tsuna has never heard that much venom, pain and fraility in a man's voice.

Neither of them speak for a moment, and all they hear is Mochida's ragged breathing, before slowly, Tsuna sits up.

There is no pity in his eyes, only weary resignation.

"What's wrong?" He whispers, feeling all of it; the pain, the sadness, the anger. He feels the familiarity of it all, before abruptly, his vision goes stark white.

_"Shut. Up."_

Mochida's single, heavy fist swings down, meeting his face and leaving his breathless and gasping. Tsuna falls backwards, presses his back against the toilet stall as he stares at the other, utterly bewildered.

"_You! You _are the problem!" Mochida hisses, before there's a punch that leaves Tsuna doubling over in pain.

Then, a kick to the gut, and a cruel hand pulls at his hair. Another bruise adding onto the patchwork of blues and purples and greens on his skin.

Another, another and another.

And _why? _

Tsuna wants to scream it out, just _what had be done? _

"You're _useless, Dame-Tsuna! _You did this to yourself!"

Punch after punch, kick after kick has his world darkening and that sick, twisted feeling building, unanswered questions ringing in his head over and over and-

Mochida leans in.

Whispers those chilling, cruel words.

"Why don't you just do the world a favour and _end it?"_

Numbness.

_("why couldn't it have been you instead of _him?_")_

_("it should have been you.")_

There's static in his ears, ringing and filling the cotton in his head with nothing but white noise, and Tsuna chokes, gasping and heaving away that sick, _sick _feeling, right to his core as he _remembers_ once more_._

And Mochida's eyes are crazed, glinting with ill-intent, of bloodlust, as he promises more than pain _(like _that man_) _and there's a glint of silver in the light _(you did this to yourself) _before he _lunges _and-

The door slams open, and silver clatters, the gleam of the blade all that he sees before the knife slips to the ground.

There's a flutter of a black jacket, before someone _screams._

_"H-Hibari-senpai, please... have mercy!"_

_("you're a monster, decimo. let's see if your family will welcome you even after all this."_ _)_

Tsuna's world goes dark.

\--

_("how could you do this to us? he was our _ _friend!_ _")_

_(their bitterness seeps into the ground he lay upon, its poison filling the very land with a retched black as he watches it all fall apart, watches as his family drifts away.)_

_(̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶s̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶?̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶,̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶_ _t̶h̶e̶n̶?̶)̶_

_\--_

_(he finds himself wanting to _forget._)_

_\--_

_he remembers it anyway._

_\--_

He holds hyacinths in his hands again, purple with vermillion, forgiveness with regret.

Daffodils and roses wilt amongst those lilac blooms, _(seven; one for each of their lives he had stolen)_ once upon a time holding more than just dying little buds of _hope._

And it's so pathetic, such a pitiful sight, that Tsuna think he could almost cry.

But he doesn't, because he hasn't cried, not since _before, _and so even as he holds these lonely, withering flowers, he can't find it in himself to accept the reality to it all, to shed even a single, piteous _tear._

Even as he remembers the bitterness of betrayal, and feels the pain ruin him whole, dragging him down deeper and deeper into that ocean of hurt.

Because it's a cycle; he knows that well, a mantra he repeats when he is the most lucid, the most delirious, tethering closer and closer into _discordance-_ the pain of remembering, feeling it all, and then _forgetting._

The disillusion takes its form in the cruel words the world spits at him, the way his dreams morph into that of knives and guns and screams and that sickening _crunch _as he lands on concrete floors, whispering out apology after apology even though he _knows _it's not enough. That it won't ever be enough.

_(you are not enough.)_

And then, and then-

Life goes on.

He finds himself a little more willing to let go, with every glare, every empty smile, and everyday the world and their lives go on, with or without him.

\--

_(tomorrow is another day.)_

_\--_

And if life were a game, it would've been another click of _reset._

(_forget.)_

\--

But it is on his hazy days that he finds Hibari Kyoya a strange person, if not distant and perhaps even the slightest bit _insane._

And yet it is on those days that Tsuna finds himself indebted to him, even if he is very much _terrified _of the prefect.

There is a familiar air around him, one that Tsuna desperately grasping at; a flitting cloud that seems to slip right past him every time he _tries._

And yet, he tries anyway, because he's _Dame-Tsuna, _and it's the least he can do.

So on Saturday morning, a day after Mochida, he packs a bento and ties a purple cloth round it; it's contents a hamburger steak made by Tsuna under the careful watch and tutelage of one Sawada Nana.

_"Mom?"_

_"Ara, what's wrong, Tsu-kun?"_

_"Do you know how to make hamburger stea- ...-?! HIE!! Mom, did you drop something?!"_

_"A...Ah, don't worry, Tsu-kun! I was just surprised. You want to learn to make hamburger steak?"_

_"...Yeah..."_

_"Well, come in and help then! I'll show you!"_

He winces at the memory of it, flexing his taped fingers at the amount of times he'd be nicked by the knife.

"Herbivore."

Tsuna stiffens, shrieking slightly as he turns to stare right at the prefect, horror slowly mounting on his face.

"Ohmygod, H-Hibari-san! Yousavedmetheotherdayso, uh-"

"-Herbivore."

"Iwashopingyou'dacceptithisbentobutyoudon'treallyhavetoeventhoughIspent-"

_"Herbivore."_

"-probablyhoursmakingitand-"

_"Shut up before I bite you to death." _Hibari seethes, tonfas gleaming ominously.

"Okay, shutting up now!" Tsuna's jaw clicks shut with an audible snap.

Then, Hibari scowls at him, eyes narrowing with distaste as he replies in a clipped tone. "I don't want it."

Tsuna flinches. "W-What?"

"The bento." Annoyance laces the prefect's words, an undertone of vemon in them. "I _don't _want it."

And it has Tsuna rearing back in shock and unexpected hurt because _oh, _he realises. He hadn't expected Hibari to reject the bento.

"But..." He swallows, chest tightening with tbat familiar pang of hurt he's growing to _hate, _as he inches forward, almost pushing the bento into Hibari's hands.

"Please. I... I spent a long time making it, and-"

_"No." _

Something faintly bitter curls in his gut. Hibari meets his gaze, eyes alit with that _something _that wants Tsuna feel so _dirty _he wants to rub himself _raw, _if only to be clean again.

"...Why?" And if his voice comes out as only a mere whisper, no-one but Hibari would see him in his moment of weakness, would stare indifferently at the tears that were beginning to pool, or the clouds that gathered overhead, ready to storm down.

"Because you are _pathetic, _Sawada Tsunayoshi."

And something.

It just _snaps._

_(i will never be worthy.)_

_(i will never be enough.)_

"Oh."

His words are distant, an echo in his ears, and that _something _in Hibari's eyes morphs into disgust and spite; both feelings Tsuna had long since grown familiar with.

There's a disconnect between him mind and soul, and he's so _tired_, all of a sudden, all at once.

Tsuna swallows, pushes the bento into Hibari's hands once more, whispers of _pathetic _taunting him, in his ears and in his dreams. In reality, and in nightmare.

_"Please. _I'll stop bothering you after. Just.. please take it this time, okay?"

_pathetic._

_(he can't help but agree.)_

And Hibari relents. "....Do as you like. I don't care."

He slips past Tsuna, who all but crumples to the ground, eyes welling slightly with tears but he doesn't know _why._

"You win." Hibari growls, and there's so much anger, so much pain in those grey eyes that Tsuna finds himself wondering, _did __I?_

_("you win, decimo.")_

_(a mockery of _his _words.)_

_He'd won, hadn't he?_

But as the prefect stalks past him, their proximity so close and yet so distant they may as well be in different countries, Tsuna can't bring himself to feel more than just bitter indifference.

It feels more like a loss, than anything else, because the person leaving behind Tsuna now seemed nothing more than a stranger.

\--

_so pitiful you almost could cry._

_\--_

In the end, he never packs another bento for Hibari.

In the end, Mochida's pleas, and those bitter, purpled bruises fade into nothing but a _dream._

_(as promised.)_

\--

_i lose in the end, then._

_(are you happy now?)_

_(...when will you be satisfied?)_

\--

Then, on his more lucid days, Violets and False Indigoes weave between his dying bouquet, the shades of _their _hair.

_(a click of a save.)_

_(a game we call life.)_

_(and a file named 'remember.')_

He stills sees them from time to time, as they flit in and out of sight. And Tsuna knows that they're always there, always watching.

Even when they don't want to be.

And so he pretends to be ignorant, _(because ignorance is bliss) _naive as he hides away behind a rose-coloured facade.

Tsuna lets them be sate their curiousity _(though curiousity kills the cat) _as the scent of lotus fills the air; pretending to be a fool, pretending to not _care._

Because eventually, he knows he has to let go. Time does not stop for a person, and just as all flowers die away, Violets and False Indigoes will fade away too. Slipping away from his fingertips, stuffing his head with cotton and _'what if'_s and wondering whether in another world, they'd stayed.

_(but have you ever tried to catch the mist?)_

And for now, it's enough.

_This _is enough, in knowing that they'll stay for alittle longer, just a second or minute more.

Because it's _selfish _to ask for more time, even when he doesn't deserve it and Tsuna contents himself with what he has.

_(what's left of it, anyway.)_

It's not fair of him to hold onto them, but it's... reassuring. The scent of lotus grounds him, brings him lucidity and awareness of the happier times _-the safer ones-_ as he remembers more than the tar and copper and screams.

Perhaps he'll be selfish for just a little longer.

_(with his brows always furrowed and fists swung as if in prayer, that is Vongola Decimo.)_

_(and yet, sawada tsunayoshi is not a saint.)_

_\--_

_that honour died the same day yuni had faded away, right from his eyes. the same day that byakuran had left nothing but ash and _sin _on his hands, with only empty words offered on a silver platter._

_"it's lonely to be a winner, isn't it?"_

_\--_

Then one day, a flyer is delivered to his mailbox.

And his mother turns to him, smile frail as she gestures vaguely to the paper. "Try it out?" Her voice is gentle, but even someone as dense as he can sense the undertone of desperation coating her words.

_("oh, tsu-kun! i got you a tutor!")_

They were words so painfully familiar, the situation so _odd, _and yet his head swirls at the intensity those spontaneous moments of repressed memories his mind grants him.

"...Okay." And so Tsuna agrees, if only to sooth his mother who beams and proceeds to flit around in the kitchen to prepare dinner, already humming a tune in no doubt delight.

The sight of it warms him slightly, but it is not enough the curb the growing unease deep within in his gut.

He can already _sense _the chaos.

He just hopes he's prepared himself enough for it; both mentally and physically.

\--

Tsuna learns to regret his words very, _very _quickly.

"Ciao-ssu!"

He has to, because there is a _literal baby _standing outside him door.

"Uh... Hi there. Are you lost?" Tsuna says rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely at the _thing _standing in front of him.

A child, with a chameleon perched upon a single crisp suit shoulder and a fedora atop his head.

The situation would had been oddly comical, had the toddler not been staring at him with a gaze way too _aware _to be a child.

Those strange, strange, _hurting _eyes that turn to his own boring caramel ones, staring deep into his soul as he seems to assess him instantly.

It makes Tsuna squirm slightly, uncomfortable at the intensity, but he can do nothing more but somewhat hold his gaze, even if the situation is familiar and he's aware that he _knows _this person but-

_(there's a bitterness that he tastes.)_

_(more than the vermillion, more than the copper or the slimy feeling of hurt and betrayal.)_

_(lingering far deeper than that sickening crunch that had sounded on concrete floors.)_

(this _bitterness is an inky black, covering his vision with spots of black, dying his hands in it as it washes away everything but that numbing feeling of alone. the feeling of sin, of thoughts that burn in his brain-)_

_(̶-̶-̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶,̶ ̶r̶o̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶m̶a̶g̶g̶o̶t̶s̶ ̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶l̶e̶f̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶,̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶n̶s̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶u̶r̶d̶e̶r̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶-̶-̶)̶_

He doesn't _want _to remember, he knows that now, remembers just _enough _of _that day _to realise it.

Not anymore.

And all he's seen in those brief flashes had been _pain, pain, _and _pain. _Time after time, again and again and again.

Like a cycle he's been trapped in, forced to feel that raw ache and bittersweetness in the pieces that were left of him.

Left to deal with the aftermath of something _he can't remember doing, _not anymore, yet still leaving him _sick _of himself, right down to the core.

_(like an unwashable vermillion, diluting the black into something so _dirty-_)_

And yet, the child smirks; a smile that is undoubtly fond, and perhaps a pinch thoughtful and regretting.

It's so painfully familiar, and if this strange child _pushed, _Tsuna knows that he could _remember._

"I'm Reborn, your new home tutor." The baby -_Reborn_\- greets, and there is suddenly nothing more between them than a friendly air of unfamiliarity.

They're strangers again, all of a sudden.

_("don't try to be a hero, tsuna.")_

_(none of us are saints.)_

And Tsuna finds it in himself to smile back.

_(thank you for being there, despite all odds.)_

"...Sawada Tsunayoshi. Pleasure to meet you." He accepts easily, moving aside to let the child in.

_(a new beginning.)_

A hope that unfurls tentatively in his chest, a glimpse of a past that had been _more _than just pain.

Tsuna finds himself wishing for _more, _too.

_(a single, yellow daffodil blooms away.)_

_(a flower of rebirth, and of new beginnings.)_

And perhaps one day, he'd be willing to ask again; the questions at his fingertips, never to leave the recluse of his mind, even with that burning desire to _learn._

_("just who were you to me in the past? why did you matter so much to me? why did i love you so, so much?")_

_One day,_ when he is less fearful of the future, of the uncertainties it brings and that weariness of those fleeting moments of clarity those repressed memories bring.

But now...

_"Welcome home."_

The words slip out, feeling like warmth and sunshine after a cold night.

He's content, because a piece of him finds peace at the familiar gaze aimed his way, before Reborn nods, almost solemnly.

"It's good to be back."

\--

_(hyacinths that he once held, he lets them go now. the words accompanied by apologies he hopes they will hear someday.)_

_(i'm sorry and goodbye, he says, as the bouquet slips from his grasp, washed away, away by that fleeting river of time.)_

_(i hope you find peace.)_

_(i hope you are happy.)_

\--

_all but a single, yellow daffodil._

"_thank you for not leaving."_

**Author's Note:**

> even i don't know the plot for this anymore, haha :/ hope you guys enjoyed though, even though it's kind of cliche and rough around the edges !!


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